


psychic 9-5 club

by unwoundfloors



Category: Ashes to Ashes
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-20
Updated: 2015-12-20
Packaged: 2018-05-07 22:07:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5472362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unwoundfloors/pseuds/unwoundfloors
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A place where time stops.</p>
            </blockquote>





	psychic 9-5 club

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Bodldops](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bodldops/gifts).



> Shaz, set between 2x08 and 3x01. Title from HTRK's album of the same name.

They’ve been gone for days and days.

She hears whispers from the faces of men who stare her down with looks of derision in DCI Hunt’s absence. Corruption. Rotten from the inside. No more of that funny business, they say, it’s the new era of accountability and trust. They talk about the new policing. The old days of the boys’ club are over. The cup of coffee and the slippery slope. Right, Shaz thinks, watching the higher-ups circle the station like buzzards. Of course the only time they deign to speak to her are offhand orders revolving around tea and biscuits. Fenchurch East feels like a ghost town these days. Gene’s office gathers dust like an archaeological relic she leaves undisturbed.  She spends her days shuffling papers, her voice caught in her throat.

They all get pulled in for questioning as to the whereabouts of their esteemed former DCI. Of course they do not question her for long, throwing her looks of pity and condescension as they ask her the same questions they’ve asked everyone else, like she’s some poor little lost soul who managed to stumble her way into this big mess. They’re taking the piss, going through the motions in a cynical gesture at abiding by procedure to the very last letter. When they ask her if she is _sure_ she isn’t sitting on the location of DCI Hunt there’s a smirk on the investigator’s face, smarmy bastard – like he couldn’t possibly conceive of a world in which this little copper happened to have the key to everything they needed.

They eye off Chris something shocking. She feels awful and indignant. He might have made a mistake big-time when he took that dirty money to pass on information, but he cared enough to see it out and make it right, didn’t he, she thinks as she watches them watch him, all careful and mistrustful-like. Ray is getting on alright in DCI Hunt’s place, but Shaz can tell his heart ain’t quite in it, like he knows this place is on life support and he’s trying but he just can’t quite get them out of this daze. And even he still occasionally finishes his sentences with “let’s check with the Guv-”, trailing off with a sense of embarrassment, like he’s put himself in his own place.

 

*

 

And then: nothing. They disappear, finally, and the days go on, uninterrupted. The constables chain-smoke and crack jokes that, between them, manage to offend every single one of Shaz’s sensibilities. God, but they’re like bloody Neanderthals, she swears, firmly and resolutely stuck in the Dark Ages of their own accord. She is so tired of having something to prove. She’d never felt that way under Alex – not in a bad way, anyway. She was something else, inverting all of their expectations and leading the way these last few years. She’d proven them wrong – and Shaz felt that Alex somewhere deep down felt that she could do the same, too, if only they’d just give her the chance.

But she keeps her mouth shut and gets her job done. Enough. This place is a nightmare now anyhow.

It’s like they’ve all gone back in time or something. Without Alex, without Gene, and without some sense of direction, they are settling into a twilight state. Basic functions intact, heartbeat present, and minimal signs of life.

Chris has gone all quiet on them, not that anybody else would notice, really. He passes her in a hallway on the way to remand and smiles awkwardly.

“Getting on alright?” His voice is cracked, he’s noticeably uncomfortable.

She sighs. She doesn’t feel angry about what happened, oh no – never, not with him. Just a horribly calm sense of quiet regret, like they both knew it was never bound to work out and were now chained together inextricably, together, in this bleak, smoke-filled place where nothing ever happens.

“It just feels like time’s stopped 'round here sometimes, y’know?”

 

*

 

She processes release papers for one of the blokes in on remand. He looks through her as she takes the handcuffs off and hands him on to Viv, who offers her a small smile and encourages her to have a good weekend. She’d forgotten it was Friday afternoon. It is windy outside as she leaves the building behind for the weekend. Not much on though. It’s weird not having Chris around all the time. She almost feels sorry for herself, but reminds herself it’s for the best – and at least she isn’t lying in a hospital bed all on her lonesome day by day, halfway out from the world already. One more thing to do before she goes home.

When she thinks of Alex, she wonders if she dreams, and if she does, whether they’re at least not nightmares.

From police custody to the intensive care unit, Shaz feels the same in these places – the weight of life and death hanging heavily in the disinfectant-smelling air. The telly burbles quietly, nonsense to her tired ears, the beeping of intimidating-looking machinery reminding her of the relentless passage of time. It reminds her of work: the murmur and bursts of radio static, sirens, lights, callsigns. Days bleeding into nights. Hours that stretch on for years. Blue sunshine, grey days. 

Evidence of other visits was a welcome sight. Even the melon slowly going bad on the side table. How strange, she thinks. Alex remains comatose and God, she looks so pale and still, the inhale and exhale of breath the scant evidence for her consciousness. A healthy dose of inner peace. At least here she isn’t in here fighting the rest of the world, sharp-tongued and spirited against the relentless injustices of the world. Just herself. Her own subconscious. It’s strange to see her like this, really – she hates to admit it but the Guv’s right, she never stops talking, it just ain’t like her. The stillness about her is unnerving, like she’s really just left already and they’re just yet to figure it out proper.

Shaz hates this. It's like they're all floating free in space, slowly drifting away from each other. It's mental how the place has managed to fall about without her. They need her back. But there's nothing left to do but wait, wait, wait - watch the days go by and hope for something to happen.

When she steps out, the lights inside are dim, but in the night sky the stars shine brighter than she’s ever seen. When she reaches the exit, for a moment, she’s dizzied by them as she looks up, thinking of the vast, wide night that stretched out further than she could ever comprehend, hiding all of them from here, somewhere. The wind's cold and she pulls her coat tighter around herself. Somewhere. 


End file.
